


Conversations We Won't Have Tonight

by SilentReprobate



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, Fake AH Crew, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-12 00:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13536219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentReprobate/pseuds/SilentReprobate
Summary: “Are you okay?” It’s a stupid question to ask.





	Conversations We Won't Have Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OnePhoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnePhoenix/gifts).



> Also on Tumblr

Gavin finds him hours later after the heist, out on the Del Perro Beach Pier, standing off at the back to stare at the ocean. Even now, with the moon over their heads and not a soul in sight, the Vagabond is awake, revealing to Gavin all that he needs to know. There’s never a moment to rest for Ryan; his shoulders are squared, back straight, and a gun in his hand.

The pier lights illuminate him in the dark of the night. It’s enough for Gavin to see the damage done. Blood and grime still clings to Ryan’s jacket. His breathing was off and while he tries his best to hide it, it’s not hard to spot the occasional wince.

Ryan turns his head slightly.

For a second, the facade falters and his shoulders sag. He lets out a sigh that causes a coughing fit, making him bend over in pain. It’s a disgusting, wet sound that hearing it alone makes it seem worse.

Gavin rests a hand on his back for comfort: he doesn't ignore the way Ryan flinches at the touch.

“I heard you leave,” Gavin says quietly as he climbs up to sit on the railing beside him.

“...Sorry,” Ryan’s voice was raw under the mask, mumbling out a half-hearted apology. Not that it really matters, anyway.

“Eh, you know me, I barely sleep.” He shrugs it off. They all have their own ways of dealing with paranoia induced insomnia. Ryan’s is patrolling the penthouse while Gavin's was watches camera feeds. Nobody said it was healthy but it works for them. The consequences from lack of sleep will catch up to them eventually, no doubt. Yet, it’s not like it can’t be dealt with at another time either. ( It’s far too easy to push it off. )

Gavin carefully rests his hand on Ryan’s. He makes sure to exaggerate his movements, to make sure the Vagabond knew his intentions. He pulls the gun from his hand; there’s little resistance. After he places it in his hoodie pocket, he takes Ryan’s hand in his to lock their fingers together lightly.

“Are you okay?” It’s a stupid question to ask. Gavin knows Ryan’s not good at the whole ‘feelings’ thing which is worsened now that he’s still in the Vagabond mindset. Still, he tries. They weren’t just a crew after all. There’s something more between them that they treasure. 

Ryan doesn’t speak for a long time and Gavin doesn't press him. He simply sits with him to ride out the storm. Without care, Gavin places his head against Ryan's shoulder. He rubs his arm gently. The pungent smell of the grime is more apparent now that his nose is so close. It takes a bit not to gag.

Then the trembling starts.

Gavin squeezes Ryan’s hand reassuringly. The sound of the ocean bashing against the pier’s legs is just loud enough to hide the crying. He feels Ryan curl up slightly, trying to protect himself from some unseen monster clawing at him. It’s hard to watch but he does. He continues to hold his hand tight, dealing with the crushing grip, grits his teeth and bears the pain because he knows whatever Ryan’s dealing with is far worse.

He’s only faintly aware of the tears dripping out of Ryan’s mask.

“Ryan,” Gavin starts, softly, reaching up to turn his head towards him. “Can I take off the mask?”

There’s hesitation clear in Ryan’s nod. Gavin can’t help biting his lip as he reaches up to carefully lifts the mask off.

The sight that greets him isn’t pleasant. 

Ryan’s face paint is a mess of colors dripping down his face. Blood is caked around his nose and forehead. There’s a nasty long cut going across his lip, down to his chin. His left eye is nearly closed, a dark purple bruise surrounding it.

Gavin tries not to gasp.

“Ryan, why didn’t you say anything?” He knows why. He absolutely knows how Ryan is with sharing things. He shouldn’t be surprised but seeing him so hurt makes his heart clench in his chest. Gavin brushes away the hair from his face carefully, not wanting to touch any cuts or bruises. They should’ve known. Ryan didn’t remove his mask the whole time they were home and he said nothing. It was odd. They should’ve noticed.

He holds Ryan’s face in his hands.

“Was my fault,” Ryan says, but it’s quiet and he barely moves his lips much. Gavin can’t blame him. It probably hurts like hell still. ( There’s no scabs either, Gavin notices, which makes him worry. )

Gavin places the faintest kiss on his forehead. He doesn't mind the dirt and sweat even though his nose scrunches up slightly. Ryan definitely needs a shower after they get his face checked out.

“Why don’t we go home and get you patched up,” He says, gently pressing their foreheads together. “The guys have been worried sick about you.”

It takes a little more convincing to get Ryan to finally stand. Gavin can’t ignore the way he wobbles and limbs; they both grin and bear it. So he becomes a makeshift human crutch for Ryan to hold onto, making sure all of his weight lies against the lad. His hand still holds the Vagabond’s mask with a tight grip that shakes. 

They’ll have to talk about this eventually.

Gavin knows they won’t though.


End file.
